


Friends and Waltzes

by acrononymous



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Other, POV Cassandra Pentaghast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrononymous/pseuds/acrononymous
Summary: Summary: Some Inquisition fluff starring: Cassandra, and Varric.Prompt: “You’re an idiot.” “Yes, but I’m your idiot.”
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast & Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Friends and Waltzes

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Da’ Assan= little arrow, and Ma’Falon= my friend.

**_Friends and Waltzes_ **

Cassandra plonked her ale on the tavern table, head swimming, and limbs fizzling in the glow of alcohol. Not too much, to be sure, just enough to partake in the celebration and unwind from the cloying stress from the Emprise. _Maker_ , slaying three roosting dragons and reclaiming a keep in one trip? Ridiculous; and impressive. Cassandra had never been prouder of her dear, ambitious friend.

“To the Glorious Ones, and the best Tiny Boss in Thedas!” The Iron Bull bellowed into the raucous crowd of Skyhold’s tavern. Cadash blushed, batting away the attention with a brawny, tattooed arm. The Chargers cheered as Bull plucked her by the collar to roost on his shoulders; Cadash giggling the entire time as she protected Bull from the ale sloshing in her tankard.

“To leaving the Emprise!” Cadash slurred from her perch.

“Here, Here!” Dorian added with an elegant swirl of his wine glass. Even Solas raised a glass to that. Cassandra arched a brow at the glassy-eyed apostate keeping a watchful eye on the Inquisitor. Between herself, Solas, and Josephine, the debauchery should be kept to an acceptable limit.

Maryden began strumming a crowd favorite and the tavern floor roared to life with drunken dancing. 

“Are you prepared for the cleanup, Solas?” Dorian crooned.

Solas arched a brow and shrugged at the Tevinter mage. “I shall be, if _someone_ does not encourage her,” Solas said, voice dancing with sarcasm. Dorian took a scandalized breath.

“Blasphemous! I shall _always_ encourage debauchery! Especially from my dearest friend,” Dorian simpered with mirth creasing around his eyes.

Cassandra snickered into her tankard, reminded of the last time Cadash was plastered. The memory of Solas carrying a drunken Inquisitor from the battlements is not one she’ll soon forget.

*

‘But So-las,’ Cadash had wailed, ‘my nuggalope is best friends with your hart!’ She yowled before a violent hiccup pierced Skyhold’s stables. ‘Like we are! Oh, it’s just so beautiful…’ Cadash had said with a wistfulness courtesy of her favorite Bourbon. The elf smiled as she held onto him, tears staining his tunic and legs wrapped around his back. Solas soothed her back and tittered ‘I know, but you should rest now, Da’Assan. Come, I’ll make sure you have some water before bed.’ Cassandra couldn’t tell if Solas’ cheeks were red from effort, or embarrassment as he carried her to her room. Regardless, the elf always doted on her with a fondness not shown to any others.

*

“Pray tell, what _are_ you snickering about, dear Seeker?” Dorian asked, plucking her from her memory with his elegant baritone. A smile meandered across Cassandra’s face as her gaze slid to the tipsy elf. “Nothing. Just remembering the last time Solas’ _Little Arrow_ got drunk at Skyhold,” she drawled. Solas furrowed his brows and sighed into his goblet, no doubt accepting the inevitable, Cassandra thought.

“Ah, yes. It was rather adorable, though entirely false,” Dorian simpered as he checked his fingernails. “I am her best friend, as we’ve established,” he said, words floating into his vintage Cabernet as he sipped.

“I know,” Solas hummed, “what with you being from Tevinter, that the concept of ownership is a little difficult for you to grasp. Cadash’s affections can be shared among her companions as she chooses,” Solas sipped his drink, “Regardless, I am surprised you remember anything from that morning. Or did your paramour fill you in as he carried you to your chambers?” Solas said through a smirk.

Mischief danced across Dorian’s face before he answered, “Yes, after a brief interlude of… activity.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra grumbled.

Maryden began a Ferelden ballad; a favorite of Cassandra’s. She closed her eyes and drifted with the melody about star crossed lovers from a time long ago. She heard the soft shuffle of feet as the dancers paired off, but peered an eye open when she heard a familiar giggle approach.

Cadash cleared her throat, a desperate battle between frivolity and seriousness warred across her features, and bowed toward Solas. “May I have this dance… Sir?” Her gaze held his for a moment before she began snickering. Solas chuckled before taking her hand with a regal nod. “Of course, Ma’ Falon.”

The Iron Bull approached with a wicked glint in his eye and pulled Dorian from his chair to join the fray. Cassandra closed her eyes once more, head swimming with warmth (and alcohol), and enjoyed this sweet interlude from the Inquisition’s drudgery. She heard a polite cough nearby as the smell of pipe smoke and ink meandered around her corner of the tavern.

“Pardon me, Seeker,” a familiar, gravel filled voice said. She slid her eyes open, sighing as the rug on Varric’s chest greeted her. “Care to dance?” Varric drawled through an impish grin.

“…Perhaps,” she said, slipping a tentative hand in his. Varric swept her away into the crowd, leading her with practiced footwork and a warm hand on the small of her back. Perhaps it was the alcohol; perhaps it was the head wounds she’d endured, but Cassandra felt a flutter in her belly as Varric’s calloused fingers tightened around hers.

“Dare I say, Seeker, you look lovely this evening,” Varric murmured.

“You may not,” she said.

Varric chuckled, “No one as lovely as this should be left without a dancing partner. Trust me, I’m an authority on such matters.”

Cassandra huffed, “You’re an idiot.”

“Ah,” he smiled, “yes, but I’m _your_ idiot. You’d be beside yourself if I was gone. Admit it, Seeker. You’d miss me,” he said before spinning her. She twirled into his arms, just as she was taught by her infernal dancing teacher so long ago, and smiled; despite herself.

An Orlesian Waltz surrounded the tavern as he released her.

“No!” Cassandra cleared her throat, “I mean… perhaps another.”

Varric bowed, “Of course, dear Seeker.” 


End file.
